 | CHAPTER X. Mercedes of Castile, or, The voyage to Cathay |  |
10. CHAPTER X.
Oh, sweet and mournful melodies of Spain,
That lull'd my boyhood, how your memory thrills
The exile's heart with sudden-wakening pain.”
The Forest Sanctuary.
From the moment that Isabella pledged her royal word
to support Columbus in his great design, all reasonable
doubts of the sailing of the expedition ceased, though few
anticipated any results of importance. Of so much greater
magnitude, indeed, did the conquest of the kingdom of
Granada appear, at that instant, than any probable consequences
which could follow from this novel enterprise, that
the latter was almost overlooked in the all-absorbing interest
that was connected with the former.
There was one youthful and generous heart, however,
all of whose hopes were concentrated in the success of the
great voyage. It is scarcely necessary to add, we mean
that of Mercedes de Valverde. She had watched the recent
events as they occurred, with an intensity of expectation
that perhaps none but the youthful, fervent, inexperienced,
and uncorrupted, can feel; and now that all her hopes
were about to be realized, a tender and generous joy diffused
her happiness, for the time, even blissful. Although
she loved so truly and with so much feminine devotedness,
nature had endowed this warm-hearted young creature with
a sagacity and readiness of apprehension, which, when
quickened by the sentiments that are so apt to concentrate
all the energies of her sex, showed her the propriety of the
distrust of the queen and her guardian, and fully justified
their hesitation in her eyes, which were rather charmed
than blinded by the ascendency of her passion. She knew
too well what was due to her virgin fame, her high expectations,
her great name, and her elevated position near
the person, and in the immediate confidence, of Isabella,
even to wish her hand unworthily bestowed; and while she
deferred, with the dignity and discretion of birth and female
decorum, to all that opinion and prudence could have a
right to ask of a noble maiden, she confided in her lover's
power to justify her choice, with the boundless confidence
of a woman. Her aunt had taught her to believe that this
voyage of the Genoese was likely to lead to great events,
and her religious enthusiasm, like that of the queen's, led
her to expect most of that which she so fervently wished.
During the time it was known to those near the person
of Isabella, that the conditions between the sovereigns and
the navigator were being reduced to writing and were receiving
the necessary forms, Luis neither sought an interview
with his mistress, nor was accidentally favoured in
that way; but, no sooner was it understood Columbus
had effected all that he deemed necessary in this particular,
and had quitted the court for the coast, than the young man
threw himself, at once, on the generosity of his aunt, beseeching
her to favour his views now that he was about to
leave Spain on an adventure that most regarded as desperate.
All he asked was a pledge of being well received by
his mistress and her friends, on his return successful.
“I see that thou hast taken a lesson from this new master
of thine,” answered the high-souled but kind-hearted
Beatriz, smiling—“and would fain have thy terms also.
But thou knowest, Luis, that Mercedes de Valverde is no
peasant's child to be lightly cared for, but that she cometh
of the noblest blood of Spain, having had a Guzman for a
She is, moreover, one of the richest heiresses of Castile;
and it would ill become her guardian to forget her watchfulness,
under such circumstances, in behalf of one of the
idle wanderers of Christendom, simply because he happeneth
to be her own beloved brother's son.”
“And if the Doña Mercedes be all thou sayest, Señora
— and thou hast not even touched upon her highest claims
to merit, her heart, her beauty, her truth and her thousand
virtues — but if she be all that thou sayest, Doña Beatriz,
is a Bobadilla unworthy of her?”
“How! if she be, moreover, all thou sayest too, Don
Luis! The heart, the truth, and the thousand virtues!
Methinks a shorter catalogue might content one who is
himself so great a rover, lest some of these qualities be
lost, in his many journeys!”
Luis laughed, in spite of himself, at the affected seriousness
of his aunt; and then successfully endeavouring to
repress a little resentment that her language awakened, he
answered in a way to do no discredit to a well-established
reputation for good-nature.
“I cannot call thee `Daughter-Marchioness,' in imitation
of Her Highness,” he answered, with a coaxing smile, so
like that her deceased brother was wont to use when disposed
to wheedle her out of some concession, that it fairly
caused Doña Beatriz to start—“but I can say with more
truth, `Aunt-Marchioness,' — and a very dear aunt, too —
wilt thou visit a little youthful indiscretion so severely?
I had hoped, now Colon was about to set forth, that all
was forgotten in the noble and common end we have in
view.”
“Luis,” returned the aunt, regarding her nephew with
the severe resolution that was so often exhibited in her
acts, as well as in her words, “dost think that a mere display
of courage will prove sufficient to win Mercedes from
me? to put to sleep the vigilance of her friends? to gain the
approbation of her guardian? Learn, too confident boy,
that Mercedes de Guzman was the companion of my childhood;
my warmest, dearest friend, next to Her Highness;
and that she put all faith in my disposition to do full justice
by her child. She died by slow degrees, and the fate of
could ever become the wife of any but a Christian noble,
neither of us imagined possible; but there are so many
different characters under the same outward professions,
that names deceived us not. I do believe that poor woman
bethought her more of her child's future worldly fortunes,
than of her own sins, and that she prayed oftener for the
happy conclusion of the first, than for the pardon of the
last! Thou knowest little of the strength of a mother's
love, Luis, and canst not understand all the doubts that
beset the heart, when the parent is compelled to leave a
tender plant, like Mercedes, to the cold nursing of a selfish
and unfeeling world.”
“I can readily fancy the mother of my love fitted for
heaven without the usual interpositions of masses and paters,
Doña Beatriz; but have aunts no consideration for
nephews, as well as mothers for children?”
“The tie is close and strong, my child, and yet is it not
parental; nor art thou a sensitive, true-hearted, enthusiastic
girl, filled with the confidence of thy purity, and overflowing
with the affections that, in the end, make mothers what
they are.”
“By San Iago! and am I not the very youth to render
such a creature happy? I, too, am sensitive — too much
so, in sooth, for my own peace: I, too, am true-hearted,
as is seen by my having had but this one love, when I
might have had fifty; and if I am not exactly overflowing
with the confidence of purity, I have the confidence of
youth, health, strength and courage, which is quite as useful
for a cavalier; and I have abundance of the affection
that makes good fathers, which is all that can reasonably
be asked of a man.”
“Thou, then, thinkest thyself, truant, every way worthy
to be the husband of Mercedes de Valverde?”
“Nay, aunt of mine, thou hast a searching way with
thy questions! Who is, or can be, exactly worthy of so
much excellence! I may not be altogether deserving of
her, but, then again, I am not altogether undeserving of
her. I am quite as noble, nearly as well endowed with
estates, of suitable years, of fitting address as a knight,
and love her better than I love my own soul. Methinks the
will surely strive to render its object happy.”
“Thou art a silly, inexperienced boy, with a most excellent
heart, a happy careless disposition, and a head that
was made to hold better thoughts than commonly reside
there!” exclaimed the aunt, giving way to an impulse of
natural feeling, even while she frowned on her nephew's
folly. “But, hear me, and for once think gravely, and
reflect on what I say. I have told thee of the mother of
Mercedes, of her dying doubts, her anxiety, and of her
confidence in me. Her Highness and I were alone with
her, the morning of the day that her spirit took its flight
to heaven; and then she poured out all her feelings, in a
way that has left on us both, an impression that can never
cease while aught can be done by either for the security of
the daughter's happiness. Thou hast thought the queen
unkind. I know not but, in thy intemperate speech, thou
hast dared to charge Her Highness with carrying her care
for her subjects' well-being beyond a sovereign's rights”—
“Nay, Doña Beatriz,” hastily interrupted Luis, “herein
thou dost me great injustice. I may have felt—no doubt I
have keenly, bitterly, felt the consequences of Doña Isabella's
distrust of my constancy; but never has rebel
thought of mine even presumed to doubt her right to command
all our services, as well as all our lives. This is due
to her sacred authority from all; but we, who so well
know the heart and motives of the queen, also know that
she doth nought from caprice or a desire to rule; while she
doth so much from affection to her people.”
As Don Luis uttered this with an earnest look, and features
flushed with sincerity, it was impossible not to see
that he meant as much as he said. If men considered the
consequences that often attend their lightest words, less
levity of speech would be used, and the office of talebearer,
the meanest station in the whole catalogue of social
rank, would become extinct for want of occupation.
Few cared less, or thought less, about the consequences of
what they uttered, than Luis de Bobadilla; and yet this
hasty but sincere reply did him good service with more
than one of those who exercised a material influence over
his fortunes. The honest praise of the queen went directly
loved her royal mistress, the long and close intimacy that
had existed between them having made her thoroughly acquainted
with the pure and almost holy character of Isabella;
and when she repeated the words of her nephew to
the latter, her own well-established reputation for truth
caused them to be implicitly believed. Whatever may be
the correctness of our views in general, one of the most
certain ways to the feelings is the assurance of being respected
and esteemed; while, of all the divine mandates,
the most difficult to find obedience is that which tells us to
“love those who hate” us. Isabella, notwithstanding her
high destiny and lofty qualities, was thoroughly a woman;
and when she discovered that in spite of her own coldness
to the youth, he really entertained so much profound deference
for her character, and appreciated her feelings and
motives in a way that conscience told her she merited, she
was much better disposed to look at his peculiar faults with
indulgence, and to ascribe that to mere animal spirits, which,
under less favourable auspices, might possibly have been
mistaken for ignoble propensities.
But this is a little anticipating events. The first consequence
of Luis's speech was a milder expression in the
countenance of his aunt, and a disposition to consider his
entreaties to be admitted to a private interview with Mercedes,
with more indulgence.
“I may have done thee injustice in this, Luis,” resumed
Doña Beatriz, betraying in her manner the sudden change
of feeling mentioned; “for I do think thee conscious of
thy duty to Her Highness, and of the almost heavenly
sense of justice that reigneth in her heart, and through that
heart, in Castile. Thou hast not lost in my esteem by thus
exhibiting thy respect and love for the queen, for it is impossible
to have any regard for female virtue, and not to
manifest it to its best representative.”
“Do I not, also, dear aunt, in my attachment to thy
ward? Is not my very choice, in some sort, a pledge of
the truth and justice of my feelings in these particulars?”
“Ah! Luis de Bobadilla, it is not difficult to teach the
heart to lean towards the richest and the noblest, when she
happeneth also to be the fairest, maiden of Spain!”
“And am I a hypocrite, Marchioness? Dost thou accuse
the son of thy brother of being a feigner of that which he
doth not feel?—one influenced by so mean a passion as the
love of gold and of lands?”
“Foreign lands, heedless boy,” returned the aunt,
smiling, “but not of others' lands. No, Luis, none that
know thee will accuse thee of hypocrisy. We believe in
the truth and ardour of thy attachment, and it is for that
very cause that we most distrust thy passion.”
“How! Are feigned feelings of more repute with the
queen and thyself, than real feelings? A spurious and fancied
love, than the honest, downright, manly passion?”
“It is this genuine feeling, this honest, downright, manly
passion, as thou termest it, which is most apt to awaken
sympathy in the tender bosom of a young girl. There is
no truer touch-stone, by which to try the faithfulness of
feelings, than the heart, when the head is not turned by
vanity; and the more unquestionable the passion, the easier
is it for its subject to make the discovery. Two drops of
water do not glide together more naturally than two hearts,
nephew, when there is a strong affinity between them.
Didst thou not really love Mercedes, as my near and dear
relative, thou might'st laugh and sing in her company at
all times that should be suitable for the dignity of a maiden,
and it would not cause me an uneasy moment.”
“I am thy near and dear relative, aunt of mine, with a
miracle! and yet it is more difficult for me to get a sight
of thy ward”—
“Who is the especial care of the Queen of Castile.”
“Well, be it so; and why should a Bobadilla be proscribed
by even a Queen of Castile?”
Luis then had recourse to his most persuasive powers,
and, improving the little advantage he had gained, by dint
of coaxing and teasing he so far prevailed on Doña Beatriz
as to obtain a promise that she would apply to the queen
for permission to grant him one private interview with Mercedes.
We say the queen, since Isabella, distrusting the
influence of blood, had cautioned the Marchioness on this
subject; and the prudence of letting the young people see
each other as little as possible, had been fully settled
between them. It was in redeeming this promise, that the
been given, and mentioned to her royal mistress the state
of her nephew's feelings as respected herself. The effect
of such information was necessarily favourable to the
young man's views, and one of its first fruits was the desired
permission to have the interview he sought.
“They are not sovereigns,” remarked the queen, with a
smile that the favourite could see was melancholy, though
it surpassed her means of penetration to say whether it
proceeded from a really saddened feeling, or whether it
were merely the manner in which the mind is apt to glance
backward at emotions that it is known can never be again
awakened in our bosoms; — “they are not sovereigns,
Daughter-Marchioness, to woo by proxy, and wed as
strangers. It may not be wise to suffer the intercourse
to become too common, but it were cruel to deny the youth,
as he is about to depart on an enterprise of so doubtful
issue, one opportunity to declare his passion and to make
his protestations of constancy. If thy ward hath, in truth,
any tenderness for him, the recollection of this interview
will soothe many a weary hour while Don Luis is away.”
“And add fuel to the flame,” returned Doña Beatriz,
pointedly.
“We know not that, my good Beatriz, since, the heart
being softened by the power of God to a sense of its religious
duties, may not the same kind hand direct it and
shield it in the indulgence of its more worldly feelings?
Mercedes will never forget her duty, and, the imagination
feeding itself, it may not be the wisest course to leave that
of an enthusiast like our young charge, so entirely to
its own pictures. Realities are often less hazardous than
the creatures of the fancy. Then, thy nephew will not be
a loser by the occasion, for, by keeping constantly in view
the object he now seemeth to pursue so earnestly, he will
the more endeavour to deserve success.”
“I much fear, Señora, that the best conclusions are not
to be depended on in an affair that touches the waywardness
of the feelings.”
“Perhaps not, Beatriz; and yet I do not see that we can
well deny this interview, now that Don Luis is so near
departure. Tell him I accord him that which he so
never quit Castile without presenting himself before his
sovereign.”
“I fear, Your Highness,” returned the marchioness,
laughing, “that Don Luis will feel this last command, however
gracious and kind in fact, as a strong rebuke, since he
hath more than once done this already, without even presenting
himself before his own aunt!”
“On those occasions he went idly, and without consideration;
but he is now engaged in an honourable and
noble enterprise, and we will make it apparent to him that
all feel the difference.”
The conversation now changed, it being understood that
the request of the young man was to be granted. Isabella
had, in this instance, departed from a law she had laid down
for her own government, under the influence of her womanly
feelings, which often caused her to forget that she
was a queen, when no very grave duties existed to keep
alive the recollection; for it would have been difficult to
decide in which light this pure-minded and excellent female
most merited the esteem of mankind — in her high character
as a just and conscientious sovereign, or when she
acted more directly under the gentler impulses of her sex.
As for her friend, she was perhaps more tenacious of doing
what she conceived to be her duty, by her ward, than the
queen herself; since, with a greater responsibility, she was
exposed to the suspicion of acting with a design to increase
the wealth and to strengthen the connections of her own
family. Still, the wishes of Isabella were laws to the Marchioness
of Moya, and she sought an early opportunity to
acquaint her ward with her intention to allow Don Luis, for
once, to plead his own cause with his mistress, before he
departed on his perilous and mysterious enterprise.
Our heroine received this intelligence with the mingled
sensations of apprehension, delight, misgivings, and joy,
that are so apt to beset the female heart, in the freshness
of its affections, when once brought in subjection to
the master-passion. She had never thought it possible Luis
would sail on an expedition like that in which he was engaged,
without endeavouring to see her alone; but, now
she was assured that both the queen and her guardian acquiesced
compliance. These contradictory emotions, however, soon
subsided in the tender melancholy that gradually drew
around her manner, as the hour for the departure approached.
Nor were her feelings on the subject of Luis's
ready enlistment in the expedition, more consistent. At times
she exulted in her lover's resolution, and in his manly devotion
to glory and the good of the church; remembering
with pride that, of all the high nobility of Castile, he alone
ventured life and credit with the Genoese; and then, again,
tormenting doubts came over her, as she feared that the
love of roving, and of adventure, was quite as active in
his heart, as love of herself. But, in all this there was
nothing new. The more pure and ingenuous the feelings
of those who truly submit to the influence of this passion,
the more keenly alive are their distrusts apt to be, and the
more tormenting their misgivings of themselves.
Her mind made up, Doña Beatriz acted fairly by the
young people. As soon as Luis was admitted to her own
presence, on the appointed morning, she told him that he
was expected by Mercedes, who was waiting his appearance
in the usual reception-room. Scarce giving himself
time to kiss the hand of his aunt, and to make those other
demonstrations of respect that the customs of the age required
from the young to their seniors — more especially
when there existed between them a tie of blood as close as
that which united the Marchioness of Moya with the Conde
de Llera — the young man bounded away, and was soon
in the presence of his mistress. As Mercedes was prepared
for the interview, she betrayed the feeling of the moment
merely by a heightened colour, and the greater lustre of
eyes that were always bright, though often so soft and
melancholy.
“Luis!” escaped from her, and then, as if ashamed of
the emotion betrayed in the very tones of her voice, she
withdrew the foot that had involuntarily advanced to meet
him, even while she kept a hand extended in friendly confidence.
“Mercedes!” and the hand was withdrawn to put a stop
to the kisses with which it was covered. “Thou art harder
to be seen, of late, than it will be to discover this Cathay
Beatriz, never was paradise watched more closely by
guardian angels, than thy person is watched by thy protectors.”
“And can it be necessary, Luis, when thou art the danger
apprehended?”
“Do they think I shall carry thee off, like some Moorish
girl borne away on the crupper of a Christian knight's saddle,
and place thee in the caravel of Colon, that we may
go in search of Prestor John and the Great Khan, in company?”
“They may think thee capable of this act of madness,
dear Luis, but they will hardly suspect me.”
“No, thou art truly a model of prudence in all matters
that require feeling for thy lover.”
“Luis!” exclaimed the girl, again; and this time unbidden
tears started to her eyes.
“Forgive me, Mercedes—dearest, dearest Mercedes; but
this delay and all these coldly cruel precautions make me
forget myself. Am I a needy and unknown adventurer,
that they treat me thus, instead of being a noble Castilian
knight!”
“Thou forgettest, Luis, that noble Castilian maidens are
not wont to see even noble Castilian cavaliers alone, and,
but for the gracious condescension of Her Highness, and
the indulgence of my guardian, who happeneth to be thy
aunt, this interview could not take place.”
“Alone!—And dost thou call this being alone, or any
excessive favour on the part of Her Highness, when thou
seest that we are watched by the eye, if not by the ear? I
fear to speak above my breath, lest the sounds should disturb
that venerable lady's meditations!”
As Luis de Bobadilla uttered this, he glanced his eye at
the figure of the dueña of his mistress, whose person was
visible through an open door, in an adjoining room, where
the good woman sate, intently occupied in reading certain
homilies.
“Dost mean my poor Pepita,” answered Mercedes,
laughing; for the presence of her attendant, to whom she
had been accustomed from infancy, was no more restraint
on her own innocent thoughts and words, than would have
possible. “Many have been her protestations against this
meeting, which she insists is contrary to all rule among
noble ladies, and which, she says, would never have been
accorded by my poor, sainted, mother, were she still
living.”
“Ay, she hath a look that is sufficient of itself to set
every generous mind a-tilting with her. One can see envy
of thy beauty and youth, in every wrinkle of her unamiable
face.”
“Then little dost thou know my excellent Pepita, who
envieth nothing, and who hath but one marked weakness,
and that is, too much affection, and too much indulgence,
for myself.”
“I detest a dueña; ay, as I detest an Infidel!”
“Señor,” said Pepita, whose vigilant ears, notwithstanding
her book and the homilies, heard all that passed, “this
is a common feeling among youthful cavaliers, I fear; but
they tell me that the very dueña who is so displeasing to
the lover, getteth to be a grateful object, in time, with the
husband. As my features and wrinkles, however, are so
disagreeable to you, and no doubt cause you pain, by
closing this door the sight will be shut out, as, indeed, will
be the sound of my unpleasant cough, and of your own
protestations of love, Señor Knight.”
This was said in much better language than was commonly
used by women of the dueña's class, and with a
good-nature that seemed indomitable, it being completely
undisturbed by Luis's petulant remarks.
“Thou shalt not close the door, Pepita,” cried Mercedes,
blushing rosy red, and springing forward to interpose her
own hand against the act. “What is there that the Conde
de Llera can have to say to one like me, that thou mayest
not hear?”
“Nay, dear child, the noble cavalier is about to talk of
love!”
“And is it thou, with whom the language of affection is
so uncommon, that it frighteneth thee! Hath thy discourse
been of aught but love, since thou hast known and cared
for me?”
“It augureth badly for thy suit, Señor,” said Pepita,
smiling, while she suspended the movement of the hand
that was about to close the door, “if Doña Mercedes
thinketh of your love as she thinketh of mine. Surely,
child, thou dost not fancy me a gay, gallant young noble,
come to pour out his soul at thy feet, and mistakest my
simple words of affection for such as will be likely to flow
from the honeyed tongue of a Bobadilla, bent on gaining
his suit with the fairest maiden of Castile?”
Mercedes shrunk back, for, though innocent as purity
itself, her heart taught her the difference between the language
of her lover and the language of her nurse, even
when each most expressed affection. Her hand released its
hold of the wood, and unconsciously was laid, with its
pretty fellow, on her crimsoned face. Pepita profited by
her advantage, and closed the door. A smile of triumph
gleamed on the handsome features of Luis, and, after he had
forced his mistress, by a gentle compulsion, to resume the
seat from which she had risen to meet him, he threw himself
on a stool at her feet, and stretching out his well-turned
limbs in an easy attitude, so as to allow himself to gaze
into the beautiful face that he had set up, like an idol,
before him, he renewed the discourse.
“This is a paragon of dueñas,” he cried, “and I might
have known that none of the ill-tempered, unreasonable
school of such beings, would be tolerated near thy person.
This Pepita is a jewel, and she may consider herself established
in her office for life, if, by the cunning of this Genoese,
mine own resolution, the queen's repentance, and
thy gentle favour, I ever prove so lucky as to become thy
husband.”
“Thou forgettest, Luis,” answered Mercedes, trembling
even while she laughed at her own conceit, “that if the
husband esteemeth the dueña the lover could not endure,
that the lover may esteem the dueña that the husband may
be unwilling to abide.”
“Peste! these are crooked matters, and ill-suited to the
straight-forward philosophy of Luis de Bobadilla. There
is one thing only, which I can, or do, pretend to know, out
of any controversy, and that I am ready to maintain in the
of Christendom, that of the Infidel included; which is,
that thou art the fairest, sweetest, best, most virtuous, and
in all things the most winning maiden of Spain, and that
no other living knight so loveth and honoureth his mistress
as I love and honour thee!”
The language of admiration is ever soothing to female
ears, and Mercedes, giving to the words of the youth an
impression of sincerity that his manner fully warranted,
forgot the dueña and her little interruption, in the delight
of listening to declarations that were so grateful to her
affections. Still, the coyness of her sex, and the recent date
of their mutual confidence, rendered her answer less open
than it might otherwise have been.
“I am told,” she said, “that you young cavaliers, who
pant for occasions to show your skill and courage with
the lance, and in the tourney, are ever making some such
protestations in favour of this or that noble maiden, in
order to provoke others like themselves to make counter
assertions, that they may show their prowess as knights,
and gain high names for gallantry.”
“This cometh of being so much shut up in Doña Beatriz's
private rooms, lest some bold Spanish eyes should
look profanely on thy beauty, Mercedes. We are not in
the age of the errants and the troubadours, when men
committed a thousand follies that they might be thought
weaker even than nature had made them. In that age,
your knights discoursed largely of love, but in our own
they feel it. In sooth, I think this savoureth of some of the
profound morality of Pepita!”
“Say nought against Pepita, Luis, who hath much befriended
thee to-day, else would thy tongue, and thine eyes
too, be under the restraint of her presence. But that which
thou termest the morality of the good dueña, is, in truth,
the morality of the excellent and most noble Doña Beatriz
de Cabrera, Marchioness of Moya, who was born a
lady of the House of Bobadilla, I believe.”
“Well, well, I dare to say there is no great difference
between the lessons of a duchess and the lessons of a dueña,
in the privacy of the closet, when there is one like
thee, beautiful, and rich, and virtuous, to guard. They say
ogres, and that the only way to reach paradise is to think
nought of us but evil, and then, when some suitable marriage
hath been decided on, the poor young creature is suddenly
alarmed by an order to come forth and be wedded to
one of these very monsters.”
“And, in this mode, hast thou been treated! It would
seem that much pains are taken to make the young of the
two sexes think ill of each other. But, Luis, this is pure
idleness, and we waste in it most precious moments; moments
that may never return. How go matters with Colon
— and when is he like to quit the court?”
“He hath already departed; for having obtained all he
hath sought of the queen, he quitted Santa Fé, with the
royal authority to sustain him in the fullest manner. If
thou hearest aught of one Pedro de Muños, or Pero Gutierrez,
at the court of Cathay, thou wilt know on whose
shoulders to lay his follies.”
“I would rather that thou should'st undertake this voyage
in thine own name, Luis, than under a feigned appellation.
Concealments of this nature are seldom wise, and
surely thou dost not undertake the enterprise”—the tell-tale
blood stole to the cheeks of Mercedes as she proceeded —
“with a motive that need bring shame.”
“'T is the wish of my aunt; as for myself, I would put
thy favour in my casque, thy emblem on my shield, and let
it be known, far and near, that Luis of Llera sought the
court of Cathay with the intent to defy its chivalry to
produce as fair or as virtuous a maiden as thyself.”
“We are not in the age of errants, sir knight, but in
one of reason and truth,” returned Mercedes, laughing,
though every syllable that proved the earnest and entire
devotion of the young man went directly to her heart,
strengthening his hold on it, and increasing the flame that
burnt within, by adding the fuel that was most adapted to
that purpose—“we are not in the age of knights-errant,
Don Luis de Bobadilla, as thou thyself hast just affirmed;
but one in which even the lover is reflecting, and as apt to
discover the faults of his lady-love, as to dwell upon her
perfections. I look for better things from thee, than to hear
that thou hast ridden through the highways of Cathay,
beauty, and tempting others to decry it, if it were only out
of pure opposition to thy idle boastings. Ah! Luis, thou
art now engaged in a most truly noble enterprise, one that
will join thy name to those of the applauded of men, and
which will form thy pride and exultation in after-life, when
the eyes of us both shall be dimmed by age, and we shall
look back with longings to discover aught of which to be
proud.”
It was thrice pleasant to the youth to hear his mistress,
in the innocence of her heart, and in the fulness of her
feelings, thus uniting his fate with her own; and when she
ceased speaking, all unconscious how much might be indirectly
implied from her words, he still listened intently, as
if he would fain hear the sounds after they had died on
his ear.
“What enterprise can be nobler, more worthy to awaken
all my resolution, than to win thy hand!” he exclaimed,
after a short pause. “I follow Colon with no other object;
share his chances, to remove the objections of Doña
Isabella; and will accompany him to the earth's end,
rather than that thy choice should be dishonoured. Thou
art my Great Khan, beloved Mercedes, and thy smiles and
affection are the only Cathay I seek.”
“Say not so, dear Luis, for thou knowest not the nobility
of thine own soul, nor the generosity of thine own
intentions. This is a stupendous project of Colon's, and
much as I rejoice that he hath had the imagination to conceive
it, and the heart to undertake it in his own person, on
account of the good it must produce to the heathen, and
the manner in which it will necessarily redound to the glory
of God, still I fear that I am equally gladdened with the
recollection that thy name will be for ever associated with
the great achievement, and thy detractors put to shame
with the resolution and spirit with which so noble an end
will have been attained.”
“This is nothing but truth, Mercedes, should we reach
the Indies; but, should the saints desert us, and our project
fail, I fear that even thou would'st be ashamed to confess
an interest in an unfortunate adventurer who hath returned
without success, and thereby made himself the subject of
that thou seemest so confidently to expect.”
“Then, Luis de Bobadilla, thou knowest me not,” answered
Mercedes, hastily, and speaking with a tender
earnestness that brought the blood into her cheeks, gradually
brightening the brilliancy of her eyes, until they shone
with a lustre that seemed almost supernatural—“then, Luis
de Bobadilla, thou knowest me not. I wish thee to share
in the glory of this enterprise, because calumny and censure
have not been altogether idle with thy youth, and
because I feel that Her Highness's favour is most easily
obtained by it; but, if thou believest that the spirit to engage
with Colon was necessary to incline me to think
kindly of my guardian's nephew, thou neither understandest
the sentiments that draw me towards thee, nor hast a just
appreciation of the hours of sorrow I have suffered on thy
account.”
“Dearest, most generous, noble-hearted girl, I am unworthy
of thy truth, of thy pure sincerity, and of all thy
devoted feelings! Drive me from thee, at once, that I may
ne'er again cause thee a moment's grief.”
“Nay, Luis, thy remedy, I fear me, would prove worse
than the disease that thou would'st cure,” returned the beautiful
girl, smiling and blushing as she spoke, and turning
her eloquent eyes on the youth in a way to avow volumes
of tenderness. “With thee must I be happy, or unhappy,
as Providence may will it; or miserable without thee.”
The conversation now took that unconnected, and yet comprehensive
cast, which is apt to characterize the discourse
of those who feel as much as they reason, and it covered
more interests, sentiments, and events, than our limits will
allow us to record. As usual, Luis was inconsistent, jealous,
repentant, full of passion and protestations, fancying
a thousand evils at one instant, and figuring in his imagination
a terrestrial paradise at the next; while Mercedes was
enthusiastic, generous, devoted, and yet high-principled,
self-denying, and womanly; meeting her ardent suitor's
vows with a tenderness that seemed to lose all other considerations
in her love, and repelling with maiden coyness,
and with the dignity of her sex, his rhapsodies, whenever
they touched upon the exaggerated and indiscreet.
The interview lasted an hour, and it is scarce necessary
to say that vows of constancy, and pledges never to marry
another, were given, again and again. As the time for
separating approached, Mercedes opened a small casket
that contained her jewels, and drew forth one which she
offered to her lover as a gage of her truth.
“I will not give thee a glove to wear in thy casque at
tourneys, Luis,” she said, “but I offer this holy symbol,
which may remind thee, at the same moment, of the great
pursuit thou hast before thee, and of her who will wait its
issue with doubts and fears little less active than those of
Colon himself. Thou need'st no other crucifix to say thy
paters before, and these stones are sapphires, which thou
knowest are the tokens of fidelity — a feeling that thou
may'st encourage as respects thy lasting welfare, and
which it would not grieve me to know thou kept'st ever
active in thy bosom when thinking of the unworthy giver
of the trifle.”
This was said half in melancholy, and half in lightness
of heart, for Mercedes felt at parting, both a weight of sorrow
that was hard to be borne, and a buoyancy of the very
feeling to which she had just alluded, that much disposed
her to smile; and it was said with those winning accents
with which the youthful and tender avow their emotions,
when the heart is subdued by the thoughts of absence and
dangers. The gift was a small cross, formed of the stones
she had named, and of great intrinsic value, as well as
precious from the motives and character of her who
offered it.
“Thou hast had a care of my soul, in this, Mercedes,”
said Luis, smiling, when he had kissed the jewelled cross
again and again—“and art resolved if the sovereign of
Cathay should refuse to be converted to our faith, that we
shall not be converted to his. I fear that my offering will
appear tame and valueless in thine eyes, after so precious
a boon.”
“One lock of thy hair, Luis, is all I desire. Thou
knowest that I have no need of jewels.”
“If I thought the sight of my bushy head would give
thee pleasure, every hair should quit it, and I would sail
from Spain with a poll as naked as a priest's, or even an
bride shall wear them: this necklace was my
mother's, Mercedes; it is said to have once been the property
of a queen, though none have ever worn it who will
so honour it as thou.”
“I take it, Luis, for it is thy offering and may not be
refused; and yet I take it tremblingly, for I see signs of
our different natures in these gifts. Thou hast chosen the
gorgeous and the brilliant, which pall in time, and seldom
lead to contentment; while my woman's heart hath led me
to constancy. I fear some brilliant beauty of the East
would better gain thy lasting admiration than a poor Castilian
maid who hath little but her faith and love to recommend
her!”
Protestations on the part of the young man followed, and
Mercedes permitted one fond and long embrace ere they
separated. She wept on the bosom of Don Luis, and at
the final moment of parting, as ever happens with woman,
feeling got the better of form, and her whole soul confessed
its weakness. At length Luis tore himself away
from her presence, and that night he was on his way to
the coast, under an assumed name, and in simple guise;
whither Columbus had already preceded him.
| CHAPTER X. Mercedes of Castile, or, The voyage to Cathay | |